


Calling A Guardian

by Mendeia



Series: Fate Is A Gift [1]
Category: Mighty Max
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Origins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-12
Updated: 2007-03-12
Packaged: 2017-11-26 00:34:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/644613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mendeia/pseuds/Mendeia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever wonder how Virgil convinced Norman to become the Guardian? A oneshot story of destiny five thousand years ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Calling A Guardian

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one-shot of how exactly Virgil and Norman met, and how Norman accepted his role as Guardian to Max. I found myself wondering how exactly Norman had agreed to be the Guardian, and what he thought of Virgil on first-impression, etc, so here we go.
> 
> Note: I realize that the episode "The Magnificent Seven" shows Norman reverting back to an archaic form of speech when he encounters Mujaji. However, I would argue that the eloquence of his language was a skill he picked up later from Virgil, as nobody ten-thousand years ago spoke like they came out of Shakespeare. The five-thousand years Virgil and Norman spent together served to give the warrior a more civilized and educated demeanor, and it probably made Virgil a little more athletic as well. Therefore, at their initial meeting, Norman was not quite the orator he later became.
> 
> I don't own Virgil, Norman, the as-yet-unborn Max, or the rest of the "Mighty Max" series. If I did, it would be released on DVD by now! Seriously! This is just for fun and because this is an all-time great show. 
> 
> Enjoy!

"Three…two…one," Virgil counted to himself. Then, at the precise moment he had anticipated, a ringing cry echoed through the woods and an enormous figure came running full-force in his direction. The man was remarkably tall with exceptionally broad shoulders, muscular legs, and long brownish-red hair tied back from his face. He carried a sword with a blue and gold pommel and cross-piece, the blade an unnatural color of silvery white. Virgil nodded to himself and stepped into the path. This was the one he had been waiting for.

"Come back here and face me you…" the warrior trailed off, seeing an overgrown chicken in red robes moving towards him. Startled, he stopped mid-stride, then found himself asking, "Um…have you seen a monster anywhere near here?"

"There is no monster, Norman," Virgil replied calmly.

"What do you mean, no monster? Of course there's a monster! The villagers have been scared out of their wits because of… Wait, how did you know my name?" Norman demanded. He brandished his sword, mind spinning confusedly. It wasn't everyday one met a chicken wearing clothing in the woods, that they could talk, or that they knew one's name. He wondered idly if this could be the monster in question, but decided against it. Every line of this bird's body shouted "thinker," not "doer." Not a threat, then. He waited for an answer.

"You'll find I know a great deal about you, Norman, including that which has given you your unnaturally long life." He nodded at the sword that glinted in the dim light of twilight. "We need to talk, but not here. Rest assured, the so-called monster you have been chasing is nothing more than a stray animal that has wandered far from its natural terrain, an elephant to be exact." Virgil smiled slightly. It was no accident that an elephant had found its way to the Viking-inhabited forests of the northern part of the wrong continent. Having temporary custodianship of the Cosmic Cap had certain advantages, including being able to send the poor beast home before it froze to death.

"An…elephant?" Norman asked. Already he had lived five-thousand years and had seen most of the world, such as it was, for himself, but he had not guessed that the grey monster described by the villagers was something as mundane as an elephant. But how did one get so far from its warmer climates? Considering this, he forgot to wonder how a bird could know of his pact to live for ten-thousand years.

"Indeed. Now, come along. Your 'quest' such as it is has therefore been fulfilled, and I have much greater need for you now. But," and here Virgil shuddered slightly; his feathers were not quite warm enough for the early winter that had blanketed the woods, "I would much rather do so in more comfortable conditions."

"We could go back to the village," Norman suggested, sheathing his sword. Without knowing why, his instincts told him that this being in front of him was to be trusted, and more than that, that he was going to be important to Norman's future.

"No, I'd rather we be on our way," Virgil said, turning to lead the way through the woods to the appropriate portal. Although his home remained in the mountainous regions of the far eastern part of the continent, he wanted first to ensure Norman's cooperation before leading him to what would be their collective abode for a very long time.

Norman shrugged and followed the bird, intrigued. In truth, in his five-thousand years of life, Norman was rarely caught off-guard or surprised, and thus far this chicken had done both. Knowing that he could handle almost anything in the world on the field of combat meant he could indulge himself in curiosity; there was no reason to fear any threat from such as this being. He was always willing to embark on a nameless and vague adventure, so this was not too far out of the ordinary. Except, well, usually when sages or thinkers sought him out for something, they were at least human.

After walking a short time into the forest, Virgil pulled out the Cosmic Cap and held it reverently in his hands. He was as yet unwilling to place it on his head, as it had only been a few years since the Mighty One had sacrificed his freedom and his life to lock Skullmaster in the center of the earth. No, he would not don the Cap himself until such time as another Cap-Bearer took possession of it, and only then in an emergency. Until that time, it waited for the next Mighty One. But even held in his hands, the Cap glowed and pulsed and opened the portal he sought.

"Whoa!" Norman shouted, taking up a defensive position. This was serious magic.

"Have no fear," Virgil said blandly, stepping forward. "It is merely a portal, a gateway to another location on the earth. It will not harm you. Come, follow me," he said. Turning to ensure that Norman would join him, he stepped calmly into the portal and vanished.

Norman hesitated a moment. He vaguely weighed the possibilities, then decided that thinking never got him anywhere interesting and went with his gut, which said to follow the chicken into the swirling light. Stepping gingerly into the portal was an odd experience, but exciting as well as he passed through the conduit. It was what he imagined flying to feel like, but flying through colors and energies the world had never seen. However, he was unprepared for the sudden end to it and landed unceremoniously on his rear, looking dumbfounded at the bird in front of him, waiting patiently. Wherever they were now, it was mid-morning and the sun was warm on his winter skins.

"Now that it is once again an agreeable temperature, I believe we can discuss things," Virgil said, gesturing around them. Norman, to his surprise, recognized the land: this was a beach on the westernmost part of the continent upon which he had been born. With great practice he swallowed the painful and shameful memories of his father, and instead looked at the blue ocean beyond. After his experience of failing his father, having grown bigger and quite strong, he had followed the setting sun into these lands to begin his quest to regain his lost honor. That was five-thousand years before.

"How did we do that?" Norman asked, hastily realizing he was still plopped on the sand and jumping to his feet. "And who are you? And what do you want?"

"I shall attempt to answer your questions out of sequence, if you will allow me," Virgil began. "I am Virgil, one of the last living Lemurians. I have brought you here by use of this" and he held up the Cap.

"What…is that thing?" Norman asked, looking confusedly at a red piece of material in Virgil's hands. It looked a bit like a leather or skin hat, but nothing like any he'd ever seen in all his years visiting the various peoples of the world.

"This is the last Cosmic Cap, a key, if you will, to the portals of the world. Think of the earth as an anthill, with tunnels running from one place to another, crisscrossing each other and creating quick avenues from one part of the hill to another without going the long way. That is what the portals are: a network of invisible doorways that lead from one place to another, anywhere in the world, as long as you have the means to access them. This" and he raised the Cap again before tucking it securely into his robes, "is the last such item that can open the portals."

Norman nodded. After having just experienced a portal, the image of an anthill made sense to him. He waited for Virgil to continue; it was his experience that thinkers liked to talk and if he let them, they would eventually tell him everything he needed to know. At least this one didn't appear to insist on trying his patience as some others he had known did.

"As for what I 'want' from you, if we are to phrase it in such barbaric terms, is not quite as simple. What I am going to ask of you might be the most difficult decision you ever face, Norman, but I believe it will be the most rewarding as well.

"You see, in another five-thousand years, a boy will be born who will be destined to carry the Cosmic Cap in battle against the ancient evil, Skullmaster. He will be a very special boy, gifted with amazing abilities and talents, but when he is called to this quest he will still be quite young. Besides Skullmaster, there will be many other evils that only he will be able to avert, and in the course of these dealings, he will be exposed to enormous danger. He will, in short, need a Guardian."

Norman nodded silently again. A lot of things were starting to fall into place. Norman knew all about Skullmaster. After all, he had been around only a few years ago when the evil one had been somehow banished or destroyed. He knew that those warriors who still survived under Skullmaster's brutal hand had banded together to face the vicious conqueror, but he had not gone with them. A small town hidden in the mountains had remained free of evil's control, and the townspeople had begged Norman to stay with them and defend them if Skullmaster ever came to their lands, and he had consented. Often he had wished he had dared fight with the others, to try his hand against one who was by all counts the most dangerous evil the world would ever face, but his duty had been to the innocent and frightened villagers and he had remained with them. But what struck him about Virgil's story was not that Virgil seemed to know the future five-thousand years in advance, but rather the inflection in his voice on the word "guardian."

"So what does this mean, guardian?" Norman asked, settling on that as the most important part to clarify.

"It means, among other things, that for as long as the Mighty One lives, you will aid and serve him alongside myself, and protect him from any and all threats. Until such time as he no longer needs you, you will commit your life and death solely to his protection. Your first and only duty will be to his safety, and you will forever be the single force between him and evil, until his final fight against Skullmaster, which, by the way, he is destined to win." Virgil rocked backwards on his feet as he spoke, hands behind his back. This was going well, he felt. Norman's face showed a rare and shrewd intelligence, but a kind countenance, and he was certainly adequately able to protect the boy. As expected, the prophecy had been absolutely correct in its choice for the Mighty One's Guardian.

"So, what, you come find me in five-thousand years and I baby-sit the kid while he saves the world?" Norman asked, mouth quirking at the idea.

"Well, you're half right," Virgil replied. "You will aid me in supporting and training the boy while he saves the world, but I will not come get you in five millennia. If you accept this commission, you and I will begin our work together right now."

"Isn't five-thousand years a little long to be just sitting around waiting for some kid to be born?" Norman asked. It wasn't that he didn't feel up to the honor of being Guardian to the hero of the world, but rather that if he had five-thousand years to kill in the meantime, he wasn't sure he wanted to spend it with an overgrown chicken.

"Sadly, no. There is a great deal we will need to do to prepare for his arrival. Destiny may guide all our fates, but every now and again it needs a bit of a push. Together, we will spend the next five-thousand years preparing the world for the coming of the Mighty One, thus ensuring that when he does rise to face his destiny, the world he has to work with is primed for his optimal success."

"And what if I don't want to follow you around the world for five-thousand years and then serve as protector to someone I might not even like when we do meet?" Norman asked, deliberately pushing Virgil with as much belligerence as he could muster. He needed to know if the chicken was tough or weak. That, more than anything else, would impact the choice he eventually made.

"Then you may walk away from me now and consider that this conversation never happened. But I warn you," and there was a smugly knowing quirk in Virgil's eyes, "you and I will often find ourselves on the same side of a number of events over the next five-thousand years. You see, whether you realize it or not, this is your destiny, Norman. If you walk away from me now, you will see me again in one-hundred twenty-three years when you are attempting to remove a Lemurian death-slayer from an otherwise peaceful village. If you again refuse this commission, we will meet another sixty-four years later when you find yourself put upon by a number of exceptionally large venomous snakes. So, you see, you do have the freedom to refuse, but you and I are inextricably bound together, and so shall we continue until the Mighty One fulfills his destiny."

Norman closed his eyes and considered. It was easy enough to assume Virgil was telling him the truth; after all, hadn't he spent the past five-thousand years wandering the earth and helping people in need? So another five-thousand years of the same was actually what he wanted the most. A small part of him reminded himself that he continued to defend the helpless in an attempt to win back his honor, but he silenced it. And maybe, just maybe being alongside this bird would give him a better chance of being where he was needed in time. Having the use of the portals would certainly make it easier to get from one place to another fast enough to save lives, fast enough to succeed where he had failed his father. He didn't know it, but it was that last argument that decided him.

"So…when do we start?" Norman asked, setting his face and looking down at his new guide.

"Immediately. First, we must return to my home so that you can begin to understand the prophecy of the Mighty One and your capacity of Guardian more clearly. Then, there is an actual demon running amok in the deserts which is stunting the growth of what will be an exceptionally important civilization, and you will need to defeat it." Even as Virgil rattled off a host of things that needed doing, his beak was pulled into a warm smile. The Guardian had been called and had accepted his destiny. If they did their work correctly for the next five-thousand years, when the Mighty One came to take back the Cap, all would be ready for his victory.

"But before we begin all that, Norman, first comes the Oath you must take to fully accept your duties as Guardian. Please repeat after me. 'I, Norman, hereby claim my destiny as Guardian to the Mighty One,'" Virgil intoned solemnly.

"I, Norman, hereby claim my destiny as Guardian to the Mighty One…," Norman repeated. As he did so, he felt something warm spread through him, something that settled him and centered him as nothing ever had, and without needing to consider, he knew that, indeed, this was the true calling of his life. He barely needed to listen to Virgil listing off the very long Oath of Guardianship, as its words had already been inscribed in his heart; he had just never known they were there.

"I solemnly swear to devote my life and my sword to the protection and help of the Mighty One, to obey his commands and follow him into any danger, to put aside all personal gain or vendetta for his well-being, to give over myself in his defense…"


End file.
